Six Night Stand
by LadyQuartz24601
Summary: Hotch and JJ have a one night stand, and revisit it repeatedly. But what happens when they are snowbound? Will their relationship flourish or wither away in the cold?


I am back :) I'd dried up my creative juices for a while, but my muse finally came back from vacation! Enjoy!

Six-Night Stand

It was never supposed to happen—especially not the way it did. But funny things happen sometimes, and events unfold faster than you can keep up with them.

It all started a few years ago….

Haley was dead, and Hotch was still adjusting to being a single dad. That's not something you get used to right away, and dealing with Jack's grieving made things a bit more difficult. Anyways, Haley'd been dead for a couple years when Will just decided to up and leave—back to New Orleans, I think, but I can't be sure. I'd broken up with him, but he was the one who decided not to be part of our son's life.

Garcia stepped up in a big way, taking care of Jack and Henry whenever the team was called away. As a result, the two boys were as close as brothers.

The first time, Jack was six, and Henry was three. Henry was sick and couldn't be comforted. It was only by chance that I heard him whimpering for "Jack-Jack."  
What could I do? What would any mother do?

I picked up my phone, pressed the speed dial, and waited for Hotch to pick up.

"Case?" He asked me by way of greeting.

"No," I smiled into the phone, "Henry's sick and wants his big brother." Hotch and I often joked about the way the whole BAU formed a family.

I half-expected Hotch to make a BAU-family joke at that moment, but instead he promised, "We'll be there in fifteen minutes. Get out a sleeping bag for Jack."

I did so and also made cocoa. Hotch and Jack were at my door in thirteen minutes. I let them in, and Jack immediately took off for Henry's room.

Hotch and I sat on the couch sipping cocoa until the early morning hours. Jack was asleep on Henry's bedroom floor, so I offered Hotch the guestroom for the night.

There was a lightness in his eyes that I'd never seen in all the years I'd known him. I wanted to look away—he was too handsome, too sweet, and too good at his job. He must know how much I wanted him.

His lips met mine before either of us knew what was happening. In a rush we stripped off each other's clothing, and we ended up having sex right on the couch with our sons not thirty feet away. Then, he carried me and our clothes to my room for round two.

When I woke up, he and Jack were gone. He never said anything about it, and it was simpler for me to pretend it never happened.

* * *

Exactly one year later, Hotch showed up at my door. We'd just gotten back from a case, and Garcia had decided to keep both boys until the next day. I let him in, immediately sensing that this wasn't any everyday _friend_ visit.

I offered him a drink, and he asked for cocoa. That's when I knew. He knew what day today was, and he knew that I knew too. I hoped he'd expect a repeat performance, because I'd been dying for one for 364 days. I could have just told him so, but there was too much to lose—at work, for us, and for our sons—for me to ask for some fling. And I doubted he was in the market for love, even if I was.

We sat on the sofa and drank our cocoa, then Hotch washed out the mugs, took my hand, and led me to my bedroom. All three rounds that night were doubly passionate and sweet. It made me want _forever_ with him; it made me realize that I was already falling in love with him.

He awoke early the next morning and got dressed. He kissed my forehead tenderly before leaving the house.

When I walked into work a few hours later, he acknowledged me with, "Morning, Agent Jareau, we have a case," and I knew I'd have to suppress my feelings for another year. Somehow I knew it would happen the next year.

* * *

But the year passed slowly, and Hotch never showed up at my house on _that day_. When he hadn't appeared by 8:30, I called my neighbor to babysit Henry and drove to Hotch's house.

Hotch answered the door after three minutes of my knocking; he looked very hassled. A look of relief passed his face, however, as he looked at me. "J. J.! Thank God!" He crushed me into a hug. "I intended to come by your house with take-out, but I got a call from my brother and had to fix something for him, then Haley's sister was supposed to come babysit, but her car broke down. Plus I forgot my cell phone charger on my desk."

I smiled my forgiveness. "Is everything okay with Sean and Jack?"

"Yes, Sean's fine, and Jack is with my neighbor. I was about to drive over to your place."

I smiled. It was nice to know that our yearly encounters were as important to him as they were to me. I pulled a thermos of cocoa out of my bag, and he found two mugs.

We weren't even done our drinks when he pulled my body into his. We didn't even try to move to a more comfortable position, just had sex on the kitchen counter as if our lives depended on it. Then, it was the hallway floor; then, finally, in the bed. As he spilled his seed into me, I heard him murmur, "I love you, J. J.."

"I love you, too, Aaron," I replied, covering his face with delicate little kisses. I held him to me as we drifted off to sleep, but I couldn't stay for long; I had to return home and collect Henry to get him ready for school.

Hotch and I stood in his kitchen. It was 5:00 in the morning, and he'd reheated the cocoa and washed my thermos. I headed for the door, where he gave me a quick good-bye kiss. As soon as I walked to my car, I knew things were back to normal. We were colleagues, friends, and never lovers.

* * *

The following 364 nights tormented me. He'd told me he loved me, and I knew that wasn't something he would just say in the throes of passion. I'd even said it back! Didn't that mean anything? Why hadn't he done anything?

Every year it was harder to keep from letting our one night creep into the daylight, but I knew this—the fourth year—would be even harder. If it was hard having one out of 365 nights, it was going to be exponentially harder to have one night out of 366 nights. The extra day seemed like a millennium.

When _that day_ rolled around for the fourth time, we were on a case in South Dakota. I was jumpy all day, hyperaware of Hotch's every move. I couldn't help but wonder whether or not he would come to my hotel room that evening.

I held a press conference at noon, and as soon as I was done, the phones started ringing. One older gentleman in particular seemed to have a legitimate tip. He was friendly, but stubborn, and he insisted that he needed me to come by his house so he could show me something.

Hotch wasn't terribly concerned as the gentleman didn't fit the profile at all, but he was dead-set on accompanying me.

We set off for the man's cabin around 1:30 and arrived about an hour later. I knocked on the door, and a man who reminded me a lot of my grandfather opened the door. He sat us on the couch and started to explain that the profile fit the description of a youth from his church who he'd taken in for a while a few years back.

With very little prompting, the man shared several stories with us that seemed to support the idea that this particular man was the Unsub. Hotch called Morgan with the details so the rest of the team could start on the hunt without us. I asked for an image of the young man so that I could fax it to Garcia when we got back to the station.

Hotch and I headed for the door, eager to close the case. We opened the door and were confronted by a wall of white.

"White-out," the man chuckled. "Looks like you're staying here for the night. No matter."

I looked at Hotch, wondering how this change of events would affect our yearly ritual. Then, I snapped back into case mode. While Hotch called Morgan with the update, I used my phone to take a picture of the photo of the Unsub. I sent the picture to Emily and Garcia.

The man at whose house Hotch and I were now stranded smiled at me. "Well, business is over so you can call me Winston. Come help me with dinner."

I obediently followed Winston into the kitchen and began to peel potatoes. He pulled out a side of pork and tossed it on the butcher block, quickly setting to work on it.

Hotch walked into the room, and I set him up to finish the potatoes while I started on the carrots. Hotch glanced at me and whispered, "I hope you're still up for tonight."

Winston chuckled. "You two rollin' in the hay, then?"

I managed to stop myself from blushing.

Before I knew it, Hotch—usually so private and subdued—had told Winston the entire story of the last four years. Without any details, thank goodness!

Winston laughed, "You young people do a lot of things that don't make sense! Look at ye! If yer in love, ye should be married already! You aren't getting' any younger."

I poured the veggies into boiling vegetable broth, and a few minutes later Winston added the meat. We'd prepared what Winston referred to as "quick stew."  
Winston set an old fashioned timer. He grabbed a beer from the fridge (Hotch and I both declined the offer.) and moved into the living room, building up a fire.

How long the three of us sat there and talked, I don't know. I know we only stopped when dinner was ready, and boy, was dinner good! Hotch made me eat two full bowls; he had been subconsciously looking after my weight since I had Henry. (I tend to forget to eat on cases.)

After dinner Winston said good night. His bedroom was down and across the hall from the one guest bedroom. I waited until I could hear Winston's snores before sending Hotch a heated glance and disappearing into our room.

Hotch was only seconds behind me, but it was long enough for me to be half-naked by the time he caught me in his arms. We started to kiss as we worked our way towards the bed. I was on fire for him—this man, my boss, was everything I'd been looking for all my life. I can tell you that I had _never_ had such great sex—even counting the other times with Hotch. We didn't fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.

I woke up to find the room still dark, even though my watch said it was ten 'o' clock. Hotch was cradling me to his chest and watching me with a tender gaze. "No where to escape to, this morning," he teased.

"I'm not trying to escape," I responded. It was as close to an admission of love as I'd ever gotten without being in the midst of intercourse. I kissed his chest gently, knowing that this "morning after" was shaking out previously established routine to its roots.

Hotch's arms tightened around me for a moment before he slid out of bed. I had the chance to properly appreciate the attractiveness of his naked form for the first time. He pulled on his boxer-briefs and pants, then picked up his shirt—half the buttons were ripped off.

I blushed and also got out of bed, sliding into my underwear and grabbing a robe out of the closet. I tied it around me. We walked into the kitchen.  
"Morning, lovebirds," Winston cackled. "You might as well go back to bed after you eat, because you're snowed in."

"Is it still snowing?" Hotch asked.

Winston nodded. "We lost power, too. I have the generator going, but I'm going to run out of gas soon. If you want a hot shower, take it now."

Hearing that, I rushed to the bathroom. I absolutely could _not_ go without my shower! I was just rinsing the conditioner out of my hair (I always keep travel-sized supplies and a razor in my purse.) when the shower curtain moved aside.

"Mind if I join you?" Hotch asked, not waiting for a reply before he stepped in.

I was shocked. This was no longer a yearly fling. This was something _couples_ did. I smiled as Hotch gave me a sweet kiss. I climbed out of the shower, but left my shampoo for him to use.

Winston had left a pile of clothes on the bed. I pulled on spare underwear (also from my giant purse) then a baggy green sweater and tight gray wool leggings.

I found Winston in the living room, "Where did the clothes come from?"

Winston smiled, "Missy, my wife and I raised eight kids in this house, and my wife never threw anything away in her life. I could clothe an army."

I grinned at him and took the cup of coffee he offered. After sipping the coffee for a while, I filled up the big sink in the mud room and poured in some detergent. The least I could do was wash my clothes and Hotch's so we'd have clean work clothes. I hung up his suit pants and jacket and collected the buttons from his shirt so I could sew them back on.

Laundry took me the better part of the afternoon while Hotch was carrying firewood from the basement up to the living room. By mid-afternoon the generator had died, so we ate sandwiches for dinner—we had to consume the stuff from the fridge before it went bad.

After our early dinner, Winston, Hotch, and I stayed up talking for quite a while. Hotch had spread a blanket over our laps, and his arm was around my waist; I thought I might melt from the sweetness of it all. When it was time for bed, Hotch let me change into pajamas and slide into bed before he entered the room.  
He slid into bed next to me and curled up against my side. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, "I love you."

My heart soared, and it was a few seconds before I could reply, "I love you, too."

"I know," he teased, "I'm not obtuse. I know you've been in love with me as long as I've been in love with you. I just needed time to run everything through my head. I didn't want to start a relationship if it wasn't going to be forever. It wouldn't be fair to Jack and Henry." His arm curled around my waist, fingers stroking against my side. "If it's any consolation, it was as hard for me to pretend nothing happened as it was for you."

"That doesn't make me feel better," I laughed. "Three years is a long time for you to make us wait."

Hotch pouted against my shoulder, "I'm sorry, J. J.. I didn't want my feelings to fade after we started dating, so I thought I'd wait to make sure they didn't. But I knew after our first night—hell, I knew way _before_ that first night—that one night was never going to be enough."

"Aaron," I said, rolling over to face him nose-to-nose, "I understand. I love you all the more for it, even though I wish you'd given me a sign…."

"I'll give you lots of signs," he growled, tasting my lips gently. "Jennifer, you're magnificent." He hugged me to him.

I smiled at him. I didn't usually like being called Jennifer, but it was like Heaven coming from his lips. We just lay there cuddling until we fell asleep. I woke a few times during the night, and each time we were still snuggled together.

The next morning I was woken up by lips ghosting up and down my neck. I stretched my arms and legs and rolled over to face the man in bed with me. "Two nights in a row together; I could get used to this!"

Hotch laughed. "Please do, Jennifer. I plan on waking up next to you every day for the rest of my life." He thought for a moment, "Well, maybe not right away. We should probably let the boys get used to us before we move in together."

I nodded. "You're right. We can't just think about us." I stood and made my way directly to the bathroom to wash in the bathtub of water that had been run the day before. The water was freezing, but it felt great to be clean.

By the time I was dressed, Hotch and Winston were outside shoveling. The plows were expected by sometime in the next 24-48 hours, and since it had stopped snowing, shoveling a path to the driveway then clearing the drive itself seemed a logical place to start.

I started the little camp stove that had been set up on the kitchen counter and set water to boil. I dug in my purse until I found what I was looking for. Fifteen minutes later, I called for the men to take a break. They came in through the mudroom.

Hotch grinned at me, "Cocoa?"

I nodded as I passed out the mugs. "You know it's my favorite hot drink."

"My wife's, too," Winston recalled, inhaling deeply. He turned to Hotch, "You hold onto this lady, son, she's pure gold."

Hotch winked at me. "I plan on it."

Snow removal dominated all the daylight hours while I kept myself busy with cooking and cleaning. Not that I can't shovel; I just hate the cold. We had a simple supper of canned soup and crackers, then Winston went to bed—he was exhausted from the day's work.

Hotch and I retired to our room shortly after. As opposed to the other times we'd been _together_, we moved, that night, as if we had all the time in the world. We teased and worshipped each other's bodies, moved tenderly, and professed our love and affection for each other repeatedly.

We lay tangled together sometime later, and I knew we'd finally found each other the way we always ought to have done. We had established a permanent _relationship_.

* * *

We were able to return to the station the next afternoon. The city streets had been cleared earlier, and the Unsub was already in custody. As we wrapped up the case, Hotch and I were too far gone in our happiness to remain strictly professional; no one questioned why I was "Jen" or why he was "Aaron" or why he touched the back of my waist every time he passed me, although I'm sure everyone noticed right away.

On the plane ride back, Hotch briefed the team on our relationship. No one was particularly surprised. Dave offered to handle Strauss for us. Morgan asked how the sex was; Reid offered a variety of favorable statistics about relationships.

That evening was our real test—explaining the upcoming changes to our sons. Both were thrilled by the prospect of spending more time together. They encouraged us to move in together as quickly as possible.

And we did.


End file.
